The Scent of Lightning

Author's note: Revisions later in the story required some revisions to earlier chapters, too. I have posted edited versions of the early chapters with the changes (mostly minor) included.

Chapter Seven

Hermione took in the peaceful atmosphere of the tiny chapel perched high on the rocky tor and wished that her mood echoed it. The week had been a busy one at St. Mungo's and this was the first chance she had gotten to come out to Brentor. She couldn't stay long - Harry's Quidditch match was that afternoon - but she wanted to take a quick look around.

All week during her lunch hour she had slipped over to the library to read and re-read the books they had gotten in Uffington. Remembering that Geoffrey had said he was doing research in ancient history, she had asked him if he had known anything about it. But Geoffrey had just smiled and said that fairy tales weren't in his specific field. Hermione had bristled at that and gone frostily back to her books.

Trailing her fingers over the backs of the pews, she walked slowly through the chapel. A stained glass window depicting St. Michael cast colourful shadows on the floor. She couldn't imagine where a magical spell would be hidden in here. The old witch's book had mentioned nothing else about it which irritated Hermione to no end. If you were going to write something down in the first place, you should put down all you knew about it and make it clear - not leave it at abstract scribblings.

For a moment, she wished that Harry was there to help her. But no, he needed to be doing other things now. She had told Ron that yesterday evening when Ron had protested at her coming out here alone. All those years Harry had fought against the Dark Arts, barely knowing a moment's peace - Hermione was certainly capable of taking over in this matter of Slytherin. Ron had agreed reluctantly and went back to finishing some paperwork.

Paperwork. Hermione gritted her teeth. She was sure he was doing it just to annoy her - Ron never worked on things like that outside the office. It had been hard enough to get him to do his homework back at Hogwarts; there was no reason to think his habits would improve.

After pouring out her heart to Harry, she had been almost ready to talk to Ron about their future, but Ron would persist in being so bloody annoying! Bringing home paperwork like she often did, just to drive home his point that all they ever did was work. Which wasn't true - weren't they both going to a Quidditch match this afternoon? He kept casually asking if she had seen Geoffrey recently, too.

"I'm not about to discuss important topics with Ron until he starts behaving like a mature adult!" she burst out, her words echoing in the chapel. The stained glass representation of St. Michael seemed to give her a reproachful look. "Well, I'm not," Hermione told him.

A bird cawed outside, and she shook herself. She was dwelling on Ron and talking to windows when she should be looking for the spell. Crouching down, she began going over the floor with her wand, muttering revealing charms.

Forty minutes later, she had found nothing. Her back and neck ached from twisting around to peer under pews, up at the ceiling, and into odd corners. She had tried every spell she could think of to reveal secret compartments or obfuscated objects, but nothing had turned up.

Stepping outside, Hermione took a deep breath of the clean winter air. She cast her eye on the many rocks scattered about the chapel. Perhaps the spell was outside, not inside? A look at her watch, however, told her that it was almost time for the match to start. Grimacing, Hermione took one last scan of the area before Apparating. She would find that spell.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The stands were crowded and noisy when Hermione arrived. She squeezed down the row until she reached Ron and Draco who were keeping a seat open for her. "Find anything?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.

Draco didn't look at her. He was staring down towards the pitch, frowning. "Is there something wrong?" Hermione asked him.

"Harry hasn't been feeling good," Draco said shortly. "I suggested that maybe he shouldn't play, but..." He trailed off. Hermione sighed. Yes. No need to repeat how that had gone over.

There was a loud boo, mixed with a few isolated cheers, as the announcer began calling out the names of the Montrose Magpies. Then a great roar went up as the Cannons came on the field. Hermione peered closely at Harry. Perhaps he was flying a little sluggishly, but he was waving cheerfully at the crowd.

The Cannons got first possession and rocketed down the field towards the Magpies' goal.

Harry swooped up over the Cannons' end of the pitch, scanning the area. The Magpie Seeker followed him.

McDowell launched the Quaffle at the right hand goal hoop, but the Magpie Keeper deflected it. Bludgers, Quaffles, and players changed direction, heading for the other side. The Magpie Seeker suddenly zoomed into the middle of the pitch. Harry followed, but at a glacially slow pace compared to his usual speed.

"Why isn't Harry going faster?" Ron said, watching through the Omnoculars. "Is something wrong with his broom?"

A Bludger hurtled towards Harry, who barely avoided it, almost falling off his broom. Hermione gasped and gripped Ron's arm. Draco jerked forward, hands clenched at his sides. "Call a bloody time out," he muttered, eyes locked on Harry.

A second later, Oliver did just that. The team gathered by the goal posts. Hermione could see Oliver waving his arms, and then Harry broke away and drifted down towards the sidelines. The Cannons' reserve Seeker shot up past him into the sky. Surprised yells and muttering broke out in the crowd.

Draco pushed past them abruptly. Hermione followed quickly, Ron dogging her footsteps. "I've never seen Harry fly like that," Ron said in a low voice. "Even when he broke his arm in second year, he still caught the Snitch!"

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "It's probably a silly cold or something. You know how Harry hates hospitals. He's probably just being stubborn when a simple potion can fix it."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said, but she heard the doubt in his voice.

Harry had already disappeared into the locker rooms when they got down to the pitch. A security guard was holding back reporters at the entrance. Draco hesitated for a split second and then strode up to the guard. "Let me through."

A fresh wave of shouts broke out among the reporters and flashbulbs went off, filling the air with smoke. The guard eyed Draco sceptically. "You need proper authorization," he said.

Hermione saw Draco's hand edging towards his wand and was about to jump in, but Ron stepped in front of her. "Auror Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his identification. "We need to see Harry Potter." The guard looked unhappy, but didn't want to stand up to a Ministry official either. He waved the three of them through.

Draco broke into a run as soon as he was in the door. Hermione almost bumped into him when he skidded to a halt just around the first corner. She peered over his shoulder. Harry was leaning against the wall, his face pale and sweaty. Draco stepped forward. "Harry?"

"I felt too sick. Couldn't fly," Harry murmured in a halting voice. He reached for Draco's hand, but his legs gave way.

"Harry!" Draco caught him as he fell, but couldn't support Harry's weight. They both sank to the floor.

Hermione was next to them in an instant, her wand out. "Harry, can you hear me?" she asked, running her wand up and down his body. Harry's eyelids fluttered, but he didn't respond.

"Is he okay?" Ron asked hovering over them.

Hermione shook her head. "His pulse is thready. Blood pressure elevated. We need to get him to St. Mungo's." She looked up at Draco. "I can Apparate there directly with him."

Draco's face was tight, but he relinquished Harry into her arms.

"We'll tell Oliver what's going on and meet you there," Ron said, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder.

Hermione nodded and Apparated, holding Harry tightly.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Three exhausting hours later, Hermione corked the last bottle of potion and set it on the cart next to the bed. Sometimes, she wished that wizards used electrical monitoring devices like Muggles did. The steady beeping of a heart monitor would be so comforting compared to this heavy silence.

She turned away and opened the door. Ron and Draco were both out in the hall. Ron was pacing, Draco standing against the wall, staring at the door. He started forward as Hermione came out. "Is he -?"

"He's all right for now."

Draco closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. "Can I see him?"

Hermione hesitated. "There's something I need to explain first." She took his arm and guided him to some chairs. Ron followed, concern written over his face.

"We've gotten his condition stabilized," she began. "There's no sign of physical injuries."

"Then what is it?"

"Something's wrong with his magic. It's like it's been...depleted." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "It's hard to explain, but a wizard or witch's magic is intimately tied to his or her physical and mental well-being. When you're sick, for example, your magic isn't as strong. Or when you're exceptionally angry, you can cause a corresponding spike in your magic. Some of Harry's magic has disappeared and that's causing the physical distress."

Ron frowned. "But how? How could his magic just disappear?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. None of the Healers have heard of anything like this either. Harrison and Newcombe are running some tests right now, but maybe when Harry wakes up he'll be able to shed some light on it."

Draco had remained silent during this explanation, but now he spoke in a low voice. "If his magic keeps disappearing like this, will it...kill him?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't think so. But if he keeps losing more, he'll eventually become just like a Muggle," she finished in a small voice.

Ron drew a sharp breath and grabbed her hand. A shiver passed over Draco's face. "Can I see him?" he asked again. Hermione nodded. Draco stood up, opened the door and closed it again behind him.

"We can't lose him, Hermione," Ron said.

"Harry without his magic will still be Harry," Hermione said sharply. "He'll still be our friend."

"I know," Ron said quickly, "but -"

"We'll figure out what's going on," she said, cutting him off. "It will be fine."

There was a sudden commotion down the hall, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared. "Hermione, Ron! We heard it on the news - is Harry all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked breathlessly, her face tight with worry.

"He's stable." Hermione explained again about the depleted magic.

Tears welled up in Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "Oh, no. And he was looking so wonderful at Christmas. Those poor boys -"

She stopped as the door opened. Draco was standing there. "He's waking up," he announced quietly.

Hermione hurried inside and went over to Harry. Green eyes blinked up at her. "Hey," Harry said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Did we win?"

"I - I don't know," Hermione managed to say, trying not to break into hysterical laughter. "How do you feel, Harry?"

"A little dizzy. Better than I did this morning, though." Harry looked past her shoulder, and his eyes settled on Draco. He gave him a small smile. "Do you know what's wrong?"

"We have some ideas. It's hard to be certain - none of the Healers quite know what to make of it - but it appears like your magic is being depleted in some way."

Harry paled. "And that's what's making me ill?"

"Yes. Harry, do you have any ideas about why this might be happening?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "The dreams," he said slowly. "Slytherin."

"Salazar Slytherin?" Mr. Weasley broke in.

"We'll explain later, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said hastily. She turned back to Harry. "What do you mean about dreams?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Slytherin has been appearing in my dreams," he said slowly. "I think it might have to do with the connection I had with Voldemort." He focused on Draco. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure if they were just stupid nightmares or what and..."

Draco shook his head. "Don't - don't worry about it, Harry."

Harry sighed and looked back at Hermione. "Somehow, Slytherin can control what I dream. He made me relive all my confrontations with Voldemort. But then, this one time, he...kissed me. Not really a kiss - it was awful - like he was sucking the air from my lungs." He looked up at Draco again. "That's why..." Draco nodded in understanding and Harry continued. "After that was when I began to feel sick. I had the same dream, if that's what you'd call it, last night."

"It's your magic, Harry," Hermione said softly. "He's sucking out your magic." She shook her head. "But it doesn't make sense - how can he do this when he doesn't have any magical powers?"

Harry gave her a lop-sided smile. "I can ask him for you, the next time I see him."

"No! We can't let him get at you again. Harry - if you keep losing your magic - there's no way to replace it." There was a sob from Mrs. Weasley. Harry's eyes flickered to Draco for a second and then focused back on Hermione.

"He said he needs someone else's magic until he can get his own powers back. He said I was...strong enough to last until then."

An icy hand had gripped Hermione's heart, but she forced herself to speak calmly. "Feeding off another's magic must be the only thing that is sustaining Slytherin half-way between life and death. But he can't actually channel that magic and use it as his own." She took a deep breath. "We'll find a way to stop him, Harry. I think we should try a Dreamless Sleep potion first. Hopefully Slytherin won't be able to get through that."

Harry nodded. He was silent for a few moments, then looked up at Ron. "So, you must know, mate - did we win?"

Ron gave him a weak grin. "Yes. It was a near thing, though. Lawrence is nowhere near as good a Seeker as you. Almost let the Magpies get the Snitch."

"Lawrence is a great diver." Harry smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "You guys didn't have to come down here."

"Of course we did," Mrs. Weasley said, coming closer to Harry. She smoothed his hair off his forehead and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"The potions we gave you have cured most of the physical illness you were feeling, Harry," Hermione said. "But it's still a good idea if you rest. I'll order a Dreamless Sleep potion sent up for you."

"Yes, you rest and get better." Mrs. Weasley gave him another kiss, and Mr. Weasley patted his arm. "We'll give you some peace and quiet."

"Can Draco stay?" Harry asked quickly.

"Of course," Hermione said. She ushered the Weasleys and Ron out the door.

"Now, what is all this about Salazar Slytherin?" Mr. Weasley asked as soon as she shut the door.

Hermione looked at Ron who sighed. "I guess it won't hurt for a few more people to know." He led his parents to some chairs. "It started when the Aurors found this book at Malfoy Manor," he began. Hermione let him tell the story while she wrote a prescription for Dreamless Sleep and sent it flying down the hall. She hoped it would work, but was already trying to come up with something else in case it didn't.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The door shut, leaving Draco and Harry staring at each other. Harry looked away. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have told you."

Draco walked over to him, sat down next to him on the bed. "Harry, I - " he started to say, but then Harry was in his arms, his hair soft against Draco's cheek.

"This - you - I can't..." Harry whispered brokenly.

"You're not going to lose your magic," Draco said fiercely. "And even if you did - it wouldn't matter to me. I wouldn't care!"

"I would!" Harry's tears were hot against his skin. "I can't lose it! I won't!"

Draco's throat was tight. He couldn't speak, could barely breathe. His mind just kept screaming No!, No!, No! over and over.

Harry turned his head so that his breath ghosted over Draco's neck. "When he grabs me - I can't move, I can't fight. I don't know what to do."

"The Dreamless Sleep will work. And if it doesn't - we'll find something else."

Harry stayed buried in Draco's arms until a gentle knock on the door broke them apart, and a Healer came in with the Dreamless Sleep potion. Harry took it from her hand. "You'll stay here, right?" he asked Draco.

"Of course," Draco said, his voice hoarse. It was just like a year ago - only now it was Harry begging him to stay. And he would.

Harry took a deep breath, swallowed the potion. Sleep crept over him, and his eyes closed. Draco stared at him until he heard a soft footstep. He turned quickly. It was Mrs. Weasley.

She came over. "Oh, Harry," she whispered, then sighed and shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. After a moment, she turned towards Draco. "Why don't you come back to the Burrow with us for some hot supper, dear?"

Draco shook his head. "I told him I would stay."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, then put her arms around him, drawing him into a hug. Draco stood stiffly for a moment, but then relaxed a little. He remembered his own mother hugging him like this sometimes when he was small. He wished that she was there now - that he could cry into her shoulder, and she would soothe away his tears.

"I'll send Ron back with a plate for you, then," Mrs. Weasley said, letting go. "And don't worry. Harry's going to be all right."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Ron headed back to the Burrow with his parents, but Hermione couldn't stand the thought of sitting around and eating right then.

"I'm going to take some medical texts and go to the library for awhile," she said.

"You haven't eaten for hours, Hermione," Ron protested. "How productive can you really be?"

"I'll grab something on the way." She took Ron's hand. "We might know by tomorrow whether Dreamless Sleep works or not. And if it doesn't, I have to find something else we can try. I have to figure out how Slytherin is doing this."

Ron glanced over at Harry's room, and he nodded. "Okay. Let me know if I can help, all right?"

"Right." Hermione gave him a quick kiss, and then hurried off to her office to pick up some books.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The library was fairly empty at this hour. Hermione let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension drain out of her in the quiet atmosphere. Questions swirled in her mind - the puzzle of the White Horse and now these dreams. She settled down at a table and organized her thoughts. The situation reminded her of when Voldemort was sending Harry dreams about the Department of Mysteries in Fifth Year. She had the impression that Voldemort had only been able to do this because he and Harry were connected through the scar. If Harry was right, this was also the reason that Slytherin could access his dreams. Voldemort had been able to influence what Harry dreamed, but Slytherin was actually entering Harry's dreams and affecting him physically, something that seemed like it should be impossible, especially because Slytherin had no magical powers.

Dream theory was a rather esoteric magical discipline - too closely connected to Divination for most serious scholars. Still, a few books did exist which went into the basics. Hermione flipped through the ones she had been able to find. According to the authors, there was no approved spell that would give a person access to another's dreams or allow them to dictate what someone else was dreaming. There were, however, a few hints that a Dark Arts spell existed which could forge a connection between two people and allow one person to influence the other's dreams. Still, it appeared that physical contact was necessary to create the connection. And anyway, Slytherin had no magical powers. Hermione sighed in frustration.

"Having trouble?"

She jumped in surprise and turned around to find Geoffrey standing there. "You're here a bit late today," he went on.

"So are you," Hermione replied.

"I'm having a few problems with the research paper I'm working on. The university wants a draft of it in a few weeks, and I need something to give them." He smiled. "What's your excuse?"

Hermione gave him a considering look. Perhaps Geoffrey knew something about dreams - he had admitted that his magical education had been rather unusual. Of course, she couldn't go into too many details, but...

"I'm having trouble with a patient at work," she began. "It's a bit complicated, but it has to do with dreams. Do you know much about the subject?"

Geoffrey set the book he had been reading - Muggle Legends: Madness or Magical Fact? - aside and sat down across from her. "Dreams - not something Healers are usually concerned with," he said slowly.

"I know. It's a very odd case, but the patient's magical ability is in danger."

"In danger? From a dream?"

"Yes." Hermione blushed, knowing how unprofessional the next bit was going to sound. "He says that someone is visiting him in his dreams and draining away his magic. But I don't see how that's possible."

Geoffrey stayed silent for awhile, and Hermione was just about to admit how stupid the whole thing sounded, when he looked up at her and smiled. "Dreams are unusual things. Quite fascinating, really."

"Then you know something about them?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I've done some private research into them. I've certainly gone beyond the drivel you'll find in those," he added, gesturing at the books piled in front of her.

"Then is it possible? Could a wizard or witch physically harm another person through their dreams?"

Geoffrey leaned back in his chair. "Our reality - the world where we're talking to each other right now - is just one of many. At death, we enter another reality. It is not totally disconnected from this one, but it is mostly separate. The world of our dreams, however, is a reality which is much closer to this one than death. We touch it nightly, but most people don't know how to access it consciously."

"But one could?"

"Yes."

"And have you ever...?"

"It takes years of work. And a certain...alteration of states."

"So a person could actually enter dreams - both theirs and others?"

Geoffrey nodded. "And from within another person's dream, because it is so intimately connected to this present reality, it would be possible to physically harm them."

"I suppose." Hermione frowned. "But there's another problem. The case I'm working on - the patient believes that the perpetrator has no magical powers."

"Magic is not necessary - at least, not the crude Obliviate and Reparo magic that concerns most wizards. There are deeper and subtler forms. They are not easy to find," a grimace passed over Geoffrey's face, "but they do exist."

"But that still seems to imply that some form of magic would be needed. I don't see how someone without magic could -"

Geoffrey cut her off. "Didn't you hear what I said about an alteration of states? You, Hermione, could not enter another's dreams because you are so deeply connected to this reality. But if that connection were weak or nonexistent..."

Hermione took a sharp breath. "Which would occur if someone had crossed into another reality? Like the afterlife?" Like Slytherin, she added silently.

"That person would not need magic to cross into dreams. They would be close to all three realities. And if one knew how to manipulate dreams, having magical powers would not be necessary to drain your patient's magic."

"How did you find all this out?" Hermione asked, astounded. "I mean, you can't have crossed into another reality. You'd have the same problem I would - being too closely connected to this world."

Geoffrey shrugged. "You're the one who has the proof here. I'm just giving you my own personal take on how it could be accomplished."

"Well, it does make sense." Hermione sighed. "We're trying Dreamless Sleep tonight, but I don't know if it will stop Harry's magic from being drained."

"Harry?"

Hermione blushed. "My patient's name," she muttered.

"Oh. Well, I'm afraid I need to get going," Geoffrey continued. "I need to check up on something. Best of luck to you and your patient in defeating his assailant." He paused. "By the way, I must say I'm very impressed at how you just figured all that out, Hermione. I can tell your reputation of brilliance is well deserved."

Hermione blushed again and stammered a good night as Geoffrey left. She'd head home for a few hours of sleep, and then go back to the hospital. She wanted to be there when Harry woke up.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

From what Harry could tell, the night was peaceful and empty at first. No dreams troubled him, and Slytherin didn't appear. Then -

A thick fog surrounded him. His limbs felt heavy, his hearing dull.

"Trying to avoid me, Harry?"

Unwillingly, Harry turned. Slytherin stood there, clad in his usual green robes.

"Dreamless Sleep." Slytherin laughed. "Well, what else can be expected of a Mudblood - although I had expected something a little more creative."

"Shut up!" Harry forced his legs to move, stumbled a few steps closer to Slytherin. His legs trembled, though, and he couldn't keep from sinking to his knees.

"Feeling a little weak?" Harry could hear the smirk in Slytherin's voice.

"You can't do this," Harry managed to say. "Trying to take back your old life - it's wrong."

"Wrong?" Slytherin inclined his head. "Why is it wrong for someone to obtain their true potential? Why is it wrong for someone to push the boundaries of knowledge?"

"Because death isn't supposed to be something you fight. It's part of living." Harry struggled back to his feet. "You're no better than Voldemort."

"Don't compare me to that half-blood fool," Slytherin hissed. A few steps and he stood in front of Harry. He reached out and gripped Harry's jaw. "Three months. And then you, Harry Potter, will be nothing more than a useless, pathetic Muggle."

Slytherin faded into the fog, and then the fog dissipated as well until Harry was opening his eyes to early morning sunlight streaming through the window. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears. Turning, he discovered Draco lying next to him on top of the covers, still clothed and fast asleep. He reached out and brushed back the few strands of hair falling across Draco's eyes.

"Harry?"

Hermione was standing in the doorway. She looked tired, still in the robes she had been wearing yesterday. She tiptoed across the room and sat down. "Did it work?" she whispered.

Harry shook his head.

Hermione muttered to herself in a low, vehement tone.

Draco shifted next to him. "What else can we try?" he asked, sitting up and staring at Hermione.

"I don't know." Hermione massaged her temples. "Slytherin can do this because he's not alive, but he's not dead either. Short of killing him, I don't know how we can stop it. And who knows how we'll do that. It's just like Voldemort and his bloody Horcruxes."

"What about Occlumency?" Harry asked. "I know I'm terrible at it, but I could try again."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think it would work. Occlumency involves mind reading, not dreams."

"We should still try it," Draco said. "Since you don't have any better ideas."

Hermione flushed. "Occlumency requires power. It's not something your average wizard is successful at!"

"And Harry's not an average wizard!" Draco shot back.

"I know that, but -" Hermione stopped and sighed. "Harry, try casting a simple charm."

Slowly, Harry reached for his wand, a knot forming in his stomach. He pointed at the glass of water standing on the bedside table. "Wingardium Leviosa," he cast. The glass rose shakily into the air, hovered about three inches off the table, and then fell to the floor, shattering.

"You can't do Occlumency anymore, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Patronuses, complex Transfigurations - none of it."

"Quidditch," Harry murmured, and let his wand drop from his fingers.

Hermione nodded sadly. "If Slytherin keeps taking your power, even simple charms like this will be too much."

Draco gripped his hand, hard. "There must be some spell that Harry could try."

"Forget performing spells, we have to concentrate on retaining some of his magic!" Hermione said, her voice rising. "Harry should stay here under medical supervision -"

"I'm not going to just lie here in bed!" Harry sat up, shaking off Draco's restraining hand. "We're going to figure out how to keep Slytherin from gaining control of the White Horse, how to put an end to this. I can help you with that, Hermione. Even if I can't do any major spells."

"I know, Harry," Hermione said, twisting the hem of her robe in her fingers. "I'd love to have your help. But -"

"Lying in St. Mungo's won't do Harry any good," Draco said. "He's smarter than most wizards even with half his magic gone. He can figure out how to stop Slytherin." Harry gave him a grateful smile.

"Fine," Hermione said, irritated. "You're no better than you were in Hogwarts, Harry. Running around when you should have been in the hospital." She took out a piece of parchment. "I'll make up a list of potions you can begin taking to keep down the dizziness and nausea. I'm going to begin working on a potential magic replenishing potion immediately." She began scribbling quickly, muttering to herself.

Harry stared down at the covers. "I suppose I'll have to tell Oliver that I can't be on the team anymore."

Draco slipped his arm around his shoulders. "It's only temporary. You'll be back next season."

Harry closed his eyes, leaned his head on Draco's shoulders. "Right."